


Making Adjustments

by BewareTheIdes15



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Science Fiction, M/M, Medical Kink, Object Insertion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-10-06
Updated: 2011-10-06
Packaged: 2017-10-24 09:03:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,651
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/261542
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BewareTheIdes15/pseuds/BewareTheIdes15
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jared's always been nervous around doctors, long before he spent those six months listening to them tell him he'd never walk again or the six months after that prepping for and recovering from having experimental CyberniTech implants grafted onto what was left of his spine.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Making Adjustments

**Author's Note:**

> This was my first attempt at the J2_LKS prompt: sci fi, objecting insertion. I decided not to use it for that, but I still thought it was kind of fun.

The high metallic warble of the sonic screwdriver - _"It's a probe, actually,"_ the doctor's correction echoes in his head; it's called a screwdriver when Jared uses one down at the garage, but fine, probe, whatever - hums in time to the helpless spasms of Jared's right leg. For a moment the noise cuts out, leaving the stark white room echoing with Jared's labored breath before he feels the tell-tale tingle latch on to the next red node glowing on his spinal column. This time it's his left leg that jiggles.

The sweat from his palms leaves damp, loose imprints on the tissue-thin sanitary synthetic covering the examination table, the cheap material rustling obnoxiously loud.

Jared's always been nervous around doctors, long before he spent those six months listening to them tell him he'd never walk again or the six months after that prepping for and recovering from having experimental CyberniTech implants grafted onto what was left of his spine. And all of that anxiousness had been without throwing in a bionics specialist who was pretty much the personification of every dirty thought Jared has had in the last ten years and having said doctor ask him to strip down and bend over an exam table. On the plus side - he _really_ never thought this would be a plus side - getting it up has been sort of a problem since the accident so he’s spared the awkwardness of an inopportune hard-on.

"Good," Dr. Ackles - _"please, call me Jensen,"_ \- says as the screwdriver - _"probe"_ \- shuts off, a warm gloved hand coming to rest at the curve of Jared's waist. "Everything looks good with your readings. The scarring is healing nicely." His fingers trace softly along the valley of Jared's back where the laser treatments have almost completely restored his skin to the smooth, unbroken expanse he'd had before the accident. It doesn't seem like it could possibly be necessary for that gentle touch to follow the incision line all the way down to the base, just barely parting his ass cheeks, where the implant ends in a blunt knob of metal beneath sensitive skin. At least it's cold enough in here that his shiver can be waved off on account of being _stark fucking naked._

Behind him he hears the quiet ping of the hospital's information matrix being accessed and it’s not going to hurt anything if he takes the opportunity to turn and ogle his new doc out of the corner of his eye. Hey, just because he can't do anything about it doesn't mean he can't still enjoy the view.

Dr. Ackles - Jensen - has warm gold-green eyes, almost hidden now by the glow of whatever readout is displayed on the inside of his glasses. He's sucking on his lower lip thoughtfully, alternately releasing it, spit-slick and even fuller than before, and sucking it back in again. Jared has to wonder what the odds are that CyberniTech sent in a specialist to see if they could drive him insane.

The light from the back of Dr. Ackles' - _Jensen's_ \- rimless lenses goes out, leaving clever eyes locked on Jared's, sharp and accessing. He can feel himself blushing even as he turns back around to stare down the blank wall.

"So, you've been experiencing some erectile dysfunction," the doctor says, calm and cool as anything. If it were possible to do a spit-take with nothing in his mouth, Jared would have just done it. Instead all that comes out is a rough punch of air that's far too much like a squawk. Oh well, his dignity was pretty well fucked already.

"They told you that?!" He doesn't mean to, but his eyes snap back to the doctor again, incredulous and stupidly offended.

Jensen's - yeah, _Jensen's_ , this is definitely not a Dr. Ackles moment - smile spasms like he's trying to fight it back down from a grin; not the professionally impersonal smile he's been giving Jared since he first walked in, but a real one that crinkles up the corners of his eyes.

"I am an expert, you know," he points out, voice rich with amusement. Jared does his best to remind himself that he means an expert in bionics, not erections. "It's probably an issue with the neural output levels. I should be able to adjust it for you."

The only way Jared can keep from spitting out some sort of corny, 'oh you can definitely adjust it for me, baby' porno line is by biting his lips hard enough to bruise. Maybe Dr. Ackles doesn't notice.

Jared slumps forward on the padded table dejectedly, hoping to just close his eyes and get this over with before he completely creeps out the guy he's going to have to do bi-monthly checkups with for the next year. On the first visit. He nearly has a heart attack when cold, slick pressure nudges up against his asshole.

"Shit! What the fuck!" Jared yelps without thinking, all but crawling up onto the table to escape the sudden push.

Jensen - hell yes, he's Jensen from now on because the guy is standing there holding his gloved hands out placatingly, the fingers of one slicked with what looks like lube, and Jared's pretty sure that's an automatic first-name-basis maker - looks a little shocked, but he's still smiling, if somewhat nervously now.

"It's ok," he soothes, tentatively reaching out his clean hand to pat over Jared's hip. "The sensors I need to get to are housed internally. I just need to open you up a little."

Ok, correction, Jensen fixing Jared's dick is a very bad idea if he's going to keep saying crap like that for the rest of the time they know each other; there is no way he's not going to be popping wood left, right and center.

Jared's body doesn't seem to mind that idea, though, because it's relaxing back down into position, presenting his ass a little more pornographically that strictly proper. God it's been forever since he got laid - clearly he's getting desperate.

"I'm just going to start with a finger." Jensen’s voice is a warm crush of velvet, his hands already in action, "It's easier that way and we can work up from there."

"I know," Jared grumbles into the crinkly sheet beneath him, "I- I'm gay."

"I know," Jensen echoes back, "I wasn't sure if you bottomed, though." His finger glides in and out of Jared's hole on more lube than he’d usually bother with for himself, an almost lulling rhythm that makes it easy to take the push of a second.

"Is that on my chart too?" Jared's starting to think he needs to get a look at that thing if the whole fucking medical community is going to be scoping out his personal information. And maybe also a date sometime in the near future - fuck, he really missed this feeling.

"No," he can hear the smirk in Jensen's voice, "But I've watched your post-op interviews and I pride myself on having excellent observational skills."

Jared can't come up with anything more coherent than, "Oh," to say to that because Jensen's just slid a third finger in and even without the hot, needy rush of blood to his cock, the sensation is still sweetly slick and full enough that Jared's eyes want to flutter closed. Date, soon, definitely.

Before he's anywhere near being ready for that to be over, the warm, thick weight of Jensen's fingers is pulling free. All things considered, it's probably forgivable that he tries to hump back against Jensen's body and regain that friction.

Behind him, Jensen chuckles, low and dirty, a lick of sound that sets Jared shuddering, his body prickling with anticipation even though he knows academically that he's not about to get fucked within an inch of his life.

He's not at all prepared for the chilly, blunt pressure that slides immediately past his loosened rim.

Whatever it is is too cold to really feel good inside and yet it still does in the most twisted way. It's slimmer than the knot of fingers Jensen had worked him open with, cylindrical, with curved, nubbly spots spaced at odd intervals between plains of glassy-smoothness. Without even realizing it, Jared's got his arm curved back, fingers seeking out the metal wand sinking into his body.

"Probe," Jensen answers the silent question and Jared barely has a chance to register 'of course', before the weird tingle of the sonic finds whatever node Jensen was looking for and goes active.

It's in no way Jared's fault that he cries out like a little girl because all of a sudden that little problem he was having downstairs is so not a problem. In fact, it feels like every single nerve ending in his body just put in for a transfer to his dick.

"Better?" Jensen asks, all smug and filthy. Or maybe the fingers he's got tickling against the underside of Jared's cock are just messing with his sense of hearing because holy fuck. That's not- that shouldn't- oh God, he's going to black out from the sweetness of it if Jensen keeps doing that. "More?"

Evidently that was rhetorical – just as well seeing as Jared didn't have much of a shot at forming words anyway - since Jensen doesn't wait for an answer before the tingle of the probe amps up to a higher frequency and the sensations around Jared's cock get impossibly more intense.

The thin latex of Jensen's gloves drags against the skin, gritty friction that's probably no more than a whisper of contact but is just the right side of painful right now. One fingertip rasps through the slick that's drizzling out of Jared - 30 seconds in and he's soaked - catching on the slit and it's like having his dick plugged in to a light socket - assuming that could feel this spectacular.

It isn't until Jensen whispers, "I doubt the hospital would approve of that," breath teasing Jared's ear and reminding him that he can still feel over parts of his body that he realizes he's been whining, "Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me."

And as if all of that wasn't enough to have Jared coming apart at the seams, inside of him the probe starts to shift, inching back and forth in a slow parody of what he really wants. The uneven portions of it drag strangely against Jared’s tender parts, the length of it body-warm now, odd bumps and knobs pushing at him in bizarre, thrilling ways. With a turn of his wrist, Jensen has it twisting in there and Jared honestly forgets what breathing is.

Dimly he's aware of the heat of Jensen's body against the backs of his legs, the even hotter line of his dick pressed to Jared's ass, but too much of his focus is set on the intoxicating push inside of him and the barely-there brushes of fingers on his cock.

He feels it in slow motion when the blunt head of the probe shifts just so to prod against his prostate, the syrup-slow creep of pressure hitting before the bliss ignites and burns Jared alive inside of his skin. Searing wet heat splashes onto Jared’s stomach, his thighs, the patter of it hitting the tile floor all but drowned out under the roar of blood in his ears and a choked keen that he suspects, embarrassingly, is coming from him.

The buzzing dulls slowly, winding him down from the highest high he's ever felt, leaving him a limp, panting mess sprawled over the examination table. He wouldn't even come close to being surprised if it turned out his bones had just liquefied. It would kind of suck considering that would mean having more implants grafted in, but then again, that would mean a lot more time with Jensen, so maybe that's not such a bad trade off.

"You babble after you come, did you know that?" Jensen voice floats back to him, way too smug to be allowed. Damn, Jared's really going to need bones if he plans on building a shrine to that man.

He makes some kind of vague sound in reply because coherent thoughts are hard and he hasn't been able to blow a wad in close to a year. Evidently that's good enough for Jensen because he's smiling when he leans down to get his face on Jared's level. He's also still obviously hard in his slacks, but Jared's not in much of a position to do anything about that unless Jensen just feels like using his body. Which, actually, would be totally ok.

"I've turned it down to a more... manageable level," Jensen confides like it's a secret, eyes shifting nervously to the floor before he sets an identity chip on the table in front of Jared's face, "but there's my personal number. In case you have any issues before our next appointment."

Through some miracle of coordination, Jared manages to move his hand enough to cover the chip with his palm and nods, his face sticking to the sheet with sweat. That smile makes another appearance, the eye-crinkly one, and Jared finds himself trying to come up with ways to put it there more often.

“Ok, then,” Jensen snaps his messy gloves off with a practiced efficiency, “I’ll just give you a minute to get yourself put back together.”

Jared huffs, his tongue thick and uncooperative in his mouth when he says, “Gonna take more than a minute.”

His body is still shaky and unstable, but it’s pleasant, welcome after so long without. He had actually started to reconcile himself to never feeling this again.

Jensen laughs softly and his hand settles easily on Jared’s back, the first touch of skin on skin somehow shockingly intimate for how little it is. He’d accuse Jensen of messing with the nodes again, but this feeling is familiar too, if just as distanced from his recent experiences.

“Thank you,” Jared says quietly, swallowing back the pack of rabid butterflies that have suddenly winked into existence in his stomach. It’s an effort to prop himself up enough on his elbows to catch Jensen’s eyes, but it’s worth it to see the same jitteriness reflected back at him in jade green.

“That’s my job,” he shrugs. Cool air rushes into the space left behind when he takes his hand back to scrub it over the nape of his neck. Jared shivers in the wake of it, which is all the reminder he needs that he’s still a naked mess flopped out over an exam table.

Getting his clothes back on is an adventure – enough so that he’s grateful to Jensen for being to one to get down and clean up the floor with a quick dose of Sani-Spray, even if it is still a little mortifying. It also gives him an excellent opportunity to check out Jensen’s ass. Why the hell is this guy a doctor?

“So, um,” Jared lingers a little at the door, suddenly not entirely sure he’s been reading the situation right at all. Maybe Jensen really was just doing his job? Really, really well. Fuck, it’s going to be awkward as hell if he gets shot down by his doctor. “I’ll call you?”

Jensen smiles again – God, he’s killing Jared over here – and licks his lips shiny – oh, that helped – before nodding, “Do.”

There’s a very faint pinkness to his cheeks that Jared might very well be imagining, but the way his eyes rake down Jared’s body as he unlatches the door says he’s not.

“Ok,” Jared says, just a little bit breathless and smacks his shoulder into the doorframe on the way out because everything up until then had just been way too suave. Still, he’s grinning as he sets up his next checkup with the nurse out front, Jensen’s ID chip burning a hole in his pocket.

Wonder if the parking lot is too soon to call and ask about another adjustment?


End file.
